CHAPTER XLI.

Jesus hanging an the Cross between two Thieves.

THE tremendous concussion caused by the fall of the
cross into the hole prepared for it drove the sharp
points of the crown of thorns, which was still upon
the head of our dear Saviour, still deeper into his
sacred flesh, and blood ran down again in streams, both
from it and from his hands and feet. The archers then
placed ladders against the sides of the cross, mounted
them and unfastened the ropes with which they had bound
our Lord to the cross, previous to lifting it up, fearing
that the shock might tear open the wounds in his hands
and feet, and that then the nails would no longer support
his body. His blood had become, in a certain degree,
stagnated by his horizontal position and the pressure
of the cords, but when these wore withdrawn, it resumed
its usual course, and caused such agonising sensations
throughout his countless wounds, that he bowed his head,
and remained as if dead for more than seven minutes.
A pause ensued; the executioners were occupied with
the division of his garments; the trumpets in the temple
no longer resounded; and all the actors in this fearful
tragedy appeared to be exhausted, some by grief, and
others by the efforts they had made to compass their
wicked ends, and
259by the joy which they felt now at having at last
succeeded in bringing about the death of him whom they
had so long envied. With mixed feelings of fear and
compassion I cast my eyes upon Jesus,—Jesus my Redeemer,—the
Redeemer of the world. I beheld him motionless, and
almost lifeless. I felt as if I myself must expire;
my heart was overwhelmed between grief, love, and horror;
my mind was half wandering, my hands and feet burning
with a feverish heat; each vein, nerve, and limb was
racked with inexpressible pain; I saw nothing distinctly,
excepting my beloved Spouse hanging on the cross. I
contemplated his disfigured countenance, his head encircled
with that terrible crown of thorns, which prevented
his raising it even for a moment without the most intense
suffering, his mouth parched and half open from exhaustion,
and his hair and beard clotted with blood. His chest
was torn with stripes and wounds, and his elbows, wrists,
and shoulders so violently distended as to be almost
dislocated; blood constantly trickled down from the
gaping wounds in his hands, and the flesh was so torn
from his ribs that you might almost count them. His
legs and thighs, as also his arms, were stretched out
almost to dislocation, the flesh and muscles so completely
laid bare that every bone was visible, and his whole
body covered with black, green, and reeking wounds.
The blood which flowed from his wounds was at first
red, but it became by degrees light and watery, and
the whole appearance of his body was that of a corpse
ready for interment. And yet, notwithstanding the horrible
wounds with which he was covered, notwithstanding the
state of ignominy to which he was reduced, there still
remained that inexpressible look of dignity and goodness
which had ever filled all beholders with awe.

The complexion of our Lord was fair, like that of
Mary, and slightly tinted with red; but his exposure
to the weather during the last three years had tanned
him considerably. His chest was wide, but not hairy
like that of St. John Baptist; his shoulders broad,
and his arms and thighs sinewy; his knees were strong
and
260hardened, as is usually the case with those who have
either walked or knelt much, and his legs long, with
very strong muscles; his feet were well formed, and
his hands beautiful, the fingers being long and tapering,
and although not delicate like those of a woman, still
not resembling those of a man who had laboured hard.
His neck was rather long, with a well-set and finely
proportioned head; his forehead large and high; his
face oval; his hair, which was far from thick, was of
a golden brown colour, parted in the middle and falling
over his shoulders; his beard was not any great length,
but pointed and divided under the chin. When I contemplated
him on the cross, his hair was almost all torn off,
and what remained was matted and clotted with blood;
his body was one wound, and every limb seemed as if
dislocated.

The crosses of the two thieves were placed, the one
to the right and the other to the left of Jesus; there
was sufficient space left for a horseman to ride between
them. Nothing can be imagined more distressing than
the appearance of the thieves on their crosses; they
suffered terribly, and the one on the left-hand side
never ceased cursing and swearing. The cords with which
they were tied were very tight, and caused great pain;
their countenances were livid, and their eyes inflamed
and ready to start from the sockets. The height of the
crosses of the two thieves was much less than that of
our Lord.